


A Week With Helios

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [7]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Aurora Australis, Boreas (mentioned), Eos (mentioned), Frogs, Gen, Helios' chariot, M/M, Zeus (mentioned) - Freeform, ancient clothing, the grandpa of Olympus, titanomachy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 10:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Seven days of Helios misbehaving.





	1. Monday (Moon) - Sunscreen

He doesn’t have quite the same power here, in Canada, as he did in Greece.

It’s to do with continental vs maritime climates, even though the latitude isn’t much different. His rays touch the earth the same here in Quebec, but there’s no Mediterranean Sea to keep the heat around. Which is a bummer – Helios remembers winning a bet with Boreas, centuries ago in Greece, about which of the two of them could get a man to strip down to nothing. Helios’ heat made the job easy (and once he determined how easy it was, it became one of his favorite pastimes).

But that same trick wouldn’t work here in Canada – more’s the pity, because there’s one specific young man he’d like to influence that way. But Helios can be persistent. It’s just a matter of dialing up the charm to 11 and keeping it there. He’ll wear the kid down.

Today he’s loafing around in Icarus’ apartment, enjoying the sweet feeling of being lazy while Apollo’s up there working. Working hard, from what Helios can tell – the sun slanting through the cheap blinds in Icarus’ windows is throwing off a lot of heat. He can see clear skies as well, when he glances out – nothing to stop cold Canada from being hit with as much sunlight as Apollo can throw at it.

Icarus should be home soon. Both gods have committed his schedule to memory, in order to maximize the amount of time they can spend pestering the boy (as well as divvying up a fair amount of time for each of them to spend on said pestering. That had come after a lot of arguments and a few “solar mishaps” and Athena coming over to yell at them and threatening to get Zeus involved in splitting up time with Icarus, à la Persephone or Adonis).

This, too, is another thing that’s different from how it was in the Old Days in Greece. Icarus’ time is at a premium, which is what led to the scuffling. The boy is constantly at class, at work, doing homework, or on his way to do one of those things. He doesn’t get enough sleep and half the time he’s so distracted with his tasks that he doesn’t eat, forcing the gods, of all people, to remind him (usually Apollo, but whatever). And his schedule is non-negotiable, mandating that he be in place, and stay in place, at exactly the prescribed hours, no matter if any important immortal beings feel otherwise. It’s irritating as fuck, if you’re a near-omnipotent god and you want to play with your mortal, only to keep getting told he’s not available. 

He and Apollo carve some time out of Icarus’ day by transporting him to his locations, but Helios thinks that if this kid doesn’t take some time off over the summer break (summer! When he and Apollo would be at their strongest and sexiest!), he’s going to personally drag the kid off to one of the uninhabited islands in Greece and keep him there where he has no choice but to relax for a change.

Helios hears the sound of a key in the door, and he looks up from where he’s been drawing dicks and amusing cartoons all over Icarus’ study notes, to see the boy walking in wearily and dropping his heavy book satchel on the table.

“Heyyyyy, Mop-Head! Took you long enough! You don’t have nearly enough prn to keep a guy entertained waiting for you – ”

Icarus groans loudly. “First of all, Helios, I know I’ve told you to quit hanging out here when I’m not around, it’s creepy, and secondly, you don’t need my – I mean – you’re, like, a thousand years old, you don’t need adult entertainment to keep you busy.”

Helios is much older than a thousand years, but he lets the point slide, sidling over to hang over Icarus’ shoulders with a lascivious grin. “Heh. Well, it’s true that I can see a lot of more fun ways to keep myself busy now that you’re back.” 

As hoped, his words net him a cute little blush from the mortal, and Icarus’ lips twitch before he shrugs Helios off. “It’ll have to wait. I gotta go out and walk a few dogs. You can come too, if you want…”

Helios gives Icarus an enormous, bone-creaking hug and a noogie just to annoy him. “Sure thing, twerp. Hurry up! I wanna hang ooouuuutttt!” 

Icarus rolls his eyes at the whining and heads towards the bathroom. “Hang on a sec, I need to change into something lighter. It’s hot out there.”

“Oohh, let me help-!”

“No way!!” Icarus retorts before shutting the door in the sun god’s face. Rude!

The kid seems to have forgotten that Helios is the All-Seeing Eye Above. A cheap door isn’t much of a deterrence for unfailing sight of everything…

Helios sighs, pouting, and doesn’t bother to cheat. If Icarus wants to be all stupidly shy and modest, fine. Helios will wear him down eventually.

After a minute or so, Icarus re-emerges, wearing a light T-shirt with a familiar facial sketch on it – that Neil guy that Icarus admires so much – and is holding a tube of some kind of paste in his hand, daubing the contents onto his nose.

Helios recognizes what it is and immediately lets out a screech, flinging himself back against the wall, away from Icarus, who gasps in alarm.

“Are you – Icarus!! Sunscreen!! Don’t you know what that does to us??”

Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Icarus gapes stupidly first at Helios and then down to the tube of sunscreen with dawning comprehension. “It – affects you?! Shit, I didn’t – here, I’ll put it away – ”

He flings the tube back into the bathroom, like that would have done anything at all, and frantically looks back at where Helios is still wailing against the wall.

“And on a Monday, too – don’t you know the Moon’s Day is when my powers are weakest!”

“Shit, I’m sorry!! Can I help? Should I call Apollo?? Would suntan oil counteract the effects?? I can get some!!” Icarus is wildly looking around for his wallet, like he’s actually going to run out and buy suntan oil so he can save Helios’ life, and that makes Helios finally crack up.

“Oh, fuck – nah, c’mon, you dumbass, obviously I was just fucking with you!” he manages around laughter that makes his entire torso ache.

Icarus has frozen in place where he is, watching Helios with an expression that is rapidly shifting from panic to that lovely look of annoyance. “You’re – not. Not dying.”

This sets Helios off again; he has tears in his eyes now. “I’m basically invulnerable, you gotta know that!” He waves a hand dismissively in the direction of the bathroom where that dangerous tube of sunscreen is. “Your lame little titanium dioxide isn’t gonna leave a scratch on a real TITAN. Jeez, you’re the cutest little gullible dork I’ve ever met, and Mop-Head, I’ve met a lot.”

He snickers again but relents when he sees the put-out expression on Icarus’ face. He glomps onto the boy, koala-style. “But hey, dork or not, I’m really happy to see you were all set to go out and buy suntan oil to save me. You’re my hero, Icarus!”

Icarus’ lips twitch reluctantly, though he tries to hide it. “I didn’t know where my wallet was. I was just going to have to steal it.”

“Icarus!” Helios’ eyes light up. “You rebel! That’s even better!”

Icarus scoffs and rolls his eyes attempting to disengage from Helios’ grabby arms. “You’re such an idiot. I don’t know why I put up with you.” He reaches up to pluck several labeled keys off his key rack: for the appropriate dog-containing houses, Helios guesses.

“It’s because you looooooove me.”

“That is definitely not it.”


	2. Tuesday (Mars) - Anger

A flick of his tail, and another of the trash cans leaps into flame. Mortals jump in surprise and alarm, then mill around frantically trying to put it out, and still trying to figure out why the trash cans are suddenly burning. 

It’s not a dissimilar scene to the old days – mortals have always fairly anxious to interpret things that occur outside the norm. But back then, things randomly bursting into flame would have immediately been assumed to be a sign from one or another of the gods, and the only thing to figure out would have been which god and why. They probably wouldn’t even bother tending to the fires until they’d found some other clues.

A Greek from the old days would certainly have noticed a bright yellow cat watching the scene intently.

Of course, they would have been puzzled by this choice of form. If Helios had really wanted them to know it was him, he would have chosen the form of a rooster, his most sacred animal. He likes roosters – the extravagant, pugnacious little shits – but they don’t belong on a modern city street. Cats are really more Selene’s animal, but Helios can take any damn form he feels like, and cat or rooster wouldn’t make a difference now. These mortals have no idea what they’re looking for. 

Helios’ cat eyes narrow at the older man backing away from one fire. Helios had encountered the man a few minutes. Ago. This man has offended him. In the old days, Helios would have revealed his identity and the man would have fallen over himself apologizing. He would have dropped to the earth and begged forgiveness, promising to make a sacrifice twice a day to show his respect for the Titan. And Helios perhaps would, and perhaps wouldn’t, have let the mortal off the hook. 

He flicks his tail; another trash can nearer to the man is alight. The man jumps and begins running down the street. Helios rises on four paws, watching him go, considering what he should do next. Perhaps set the guy’s shoes on fire. They’re ugly enough…

No. Pointless. The guy wouldn’t make the connection. It would be meaningless. He has no idea what he did wrong. Helios’ tail lashes in frustration. Fuck this – he’ll go burn some steam on his chariot. 

The yellow cat vanishes, leaving the mortals to put out their fires.

A few hours later, the sun has set and Helios is still in a vacant lot outside the city limits, practicing tricks on the motorcycle and feeling ready to fight the world, when Apollo appears.

The younger god appears abruptly and with no fanfare for a change, in the path of Helios’ motorcycle as it’s charging through the air from a jump. Helios draws the chariot to a halt inches from Apollo’s face; the beautiful and stoic expression doesn’t change.

“Bad day?” Apollo asks rhetorically.

Helios snorts and considers for a moment, before killing the engine and climbing off. “You could say that.”

He stalks over to an old concrete pipe and hops up on top of it; Apollo follows sedately. They sit in silence for a moment, watching their sisters in the distance, starting their nightly horsing around in the sky. After a while,Helios finally forces himself to talk.

“Thanks for taking care of the sunset tonight.”

Apollo shrugs. “It was no problem.” He sips his tea, which he of course has with him, and he looks completely out of place with his neatly coiffed hair and pressed clean suit and shiny shoes and teacup, sitting around in an empty lot full of junk and Helios.

Apollo clears his throat politely. “Icarus asked after you earlier. Why don’t we go back and visit?”

“Nah. I’m still pissed.”

“At Icarus?”

“No! Obviously not! I just can’t see him right now.” This is something Helios doesn’t like to articulate, and he doesn’t know if Apollo feels the same way, but Helios strongly enjoys Icarus’ comfort around him. Icarus is calm and wry and unintimidated by the gods, and Helios doesn’t know if that comfort would survive a godly temper outburst, but better not to test it: he really wants to win the kid over.

Apollo sips his tea again. “You want to tell me what’s wrong, Grandpa?”

Helios snorts laughter reluctantly. “Grandpa, heh. Yeah. I’m an old gramps up there, and a noisy stupid brat down here.”

“Ahh,” Apollo says softly, in understanding. 

“Fucking, it’s just – no respect at all anymore, you know? People treat me like, like I’m just an annoying asshole. And I know, I play it up sometimes, but…” He sighs. “People used to worship me. Now I’m just a ‘brat.’ I keep forgetting I don’t mean anything to anyone.”

“It’s just what happened when we decided to withdraw from daily mortal life,” Apollo says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. It isn’t easy for him, either, Helios knows. Pretty young mortals used to throw themselves at him. “And you know that’s not true, anyway. Icarus knows you for who you are.”

“Yeah…”

Brief and soft, Apollos’ fingertips graze under Helios’ chin, turning his face slightly to face him. Apollo presses a kiss to Helios’ cheek. Apollo, who hoards his kisses to Helios like precious gems, and only doles them out in small bits so that Helios will never get bored – Apollo’s kiss is warm and scented like honey and flowers and sunshine. It’s over too quickly and Apollo drops his fingers to take Helios’ hand in his own. “And unlike other nicknames, ‘Grandpa’ is used with affection and acknowledgement. We all know you for who you are.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Helios snarls, voice catching slightly, face reddening noticeably.

Apollo smiles and doesn’t reply, only sipping his tea with one hand and holding onto Helios with the other, content to sit quietly for the moment in their off-hours, until eventually Helios declares it’s time to go see if Icarus is still awake.


	3. Wednesday (Mercury) - Travel

Today, Helios decides he’d like to travel a bit, in the chariot. This is one thing Canada’s got going for it: long, long roads that wind through wilderness. The roads in Greece are choppier. There’s always another hill or mountain range, and the coast is omnipresent. Obviously, these aren’t obstacles for a god (particularly when the chariot usually roars across the sky), but Helios enjoys matching that freedom in his mortal form as well.

The roads of northern Canada are heavily wooded, with animals that would put the beasts of the Heroic Age of Greece to shame for size and fearsomeness. Helios loves it. It’s not his usual environment, obviously, but it still reminds him of old times.

He has the incredible good fortune to be present when Icarus finds out that his usual Monday classes are both canceled for faculty emergencies, his work shift had already been switched to another day (and *no,* Helios did not orchestrate this), and Helios latches onto the opportunity to drag the mortal off for an impromptu road trip. 

The kid squawks and fusses, as per usual, but Helios ignores him and sets him on the back of the motorcycle, and they take off, headed north. 

Icarus clings to him tightly: arms wrapped around Helios’ slim frame, hands clasped over the god’s midsection. The mortal gets nervous about riding without any safety equipment, and at the kinds of speeds Helios likes. For the first stretch of their road trip, he lectures Helios on road safety in a cross, pedantic voice. Like he thinks it’s actually possible for Helios to get in an accident. Even if they did, it’s not like Helios couldn’t step in to protect Icarus (not that there’s a good precedent for that, but still…). Helios alternately scoffs at his concerns, and teases him by performing jumps and wheelies and taking corners far too fast, just to hear the little startled yelp and feel the hands clutch him tighter.

“You’re such a jerk! That was like, twenty-three different laws you broke doing that!!”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Helios hollers back gleefully, before he blasts Another Brick in the Wall from a radio that shouldn’t exists on the motorcycle.

He can tell from the way Icarus is shaking that the kid’s trying not to laugh – or, well, maybe he’s actually scared. Hard to tell, since Helios is responsibly keeping his eyes on the road.

After a while, Icarus stops complaining, and just watches the scenery as they ride further north, into the uninhabited wild. 

“It’s really pretty out here, away from the city,” he observes.

“Yeah. I like coming out here, eating up some miles. It’s a good way to kill time. The forests and lakes up here are awesome. I bet Artemis loves it.”

“I’m kind of surprised you love it so much. I thought you were, you know, the wild guy? The rebel.”

“I like to make a scene,” Helios agrees, revving the engine for no other purpose than to emphasize. He’s about to go on, and explain that he’s about freedom, and that he loves not being beholden to rules or expectations, and how being out here in the middle of nowhere means there aren’t any rules or expectations to bother with. Making a scene, being rebellious… that only exists in the context of being around other people. It’s unnecessary out here.

He doesn’t say this, though, and instead he opens a portal ahead of them – a tear in the fabric of the world, opening to inky blackness.

Behind him, Icarus squawks. “Helios, you don’t have to make a scene right now to prove to me that you’re crazy!!”

Helios laughs and adds flames to the outside of the portal, just because. “Hold on, Mop-Head! Here comes Broken Law Number Twenty-Four!”

He revs the engine again and roars through the burning portal, delighting in the alarmed curse that comes from Icarus.

The space between worlds is the way it always is: darkness that stretches to infinity, filled and illuminated with sparkling stars in the distance. Icarus has seen this before, but he still goes quiet and stares around in awe. Helios is preparing to open another portal back to the mortal world, but has an idea. He brings the motorcycle to a halt, idling the engine, and puts his hand over Icarus’s own.

“Hey, Mop-Head. Swap spots with me.”

Icarus stiffens. “W-what? Why?”

“Where we’re going, I have to concentrate. In order to keep you safe, you know? And I know you’re all about safety. So you drive for a minute.”

“Wait wait wait, no way, I read about this, about – someone crashed this chariot before?!” 

That was Phaethon. One of Helios’ sons. Helios squeezes Icarus’ hand before half-turning and putting his hands about the mortal’s waist.

“C’mon, nerd. It’ll be fine. See? Because you’ll be sitting here like this – ” he pulls Icarus out of his seat, watching in amusement as Icarus grips Helios’ sleeves tight enough to make his knuckles white. Helios pulls him safely around, repositioning Icarus so that their positions are reversed. Icarus now sits in front of Helios, back pressed to Helios’ front. 

“…And I’ll be right here to help drive. Sheesh. Anyone would think you’d never driven before.” He keeps his tone light. His hands are over Icarus’; they’re a little shaky against the handlebars.

“O-okay. Where… where are we going?”

Helios presses against him, resting his chin on Icarus’ shoulder and grinning. He snaps his fingers and another flaming portal appears. “Aim for that!”

“Do there have to be flames?” Icarus whines.

“Obviously!” Helios kicks the chariot into action and with a small gasp, Icarus steers them through the portal…

…into another scene of darkness. This one has a few more landscape details: an expanse of ocean stretches below them, black and reflecting the dark sky and the glittering stars, and also –

“Oh, wow,” Icarus breathes.

The aurora australis stretches across the sky, twisting and flowing and shifting and reflecting on the water. Icarus spots his sister Eos in the distance, happily painting the shimmering lights through the atmosphere. She catches sight of him and waves, then covers her mouth and squeals in delight when she sees his passenger. Helios winks.

Icarus doesn’t spot the goddess, he’s too busy gaping at her handiwork. “Oh – oh wow,” he says again. “I’ve – I think I saw the Northern Lights once, when I was a kid they made it far enough south…”

“These aren’t the Northern Lights,” Helios tells him, steering the chariot, since Icarus is completely distracted. He keeps one hand on Icarus’ waist and radiates warmth through the mortal’s body. Icarus hasn’t felt it yet, but it’s quite cold here.

“Not…? Oh. Because it’s summer in the Northern Hemisphere. So these – you took us south? This is the aurora australis?”

“Yup! We’re in the Ross Sea. Little ways northeast off the coast of Antarctica.”

“…It should be cold.”

“It is cold, kiddo. Lucky for you, you’ve got your own personal heater sitting back here.” Helios hums a bit and sings, softly: “I’m too hot, hot damn! Call the police and the fireman, too hot, hot damn! Make a dragon wanna-”

His joke earns him an elbow to the gut. He oofs and chuckles, and they fall to silence.

Icarus can’t stop staring as Helios cruises them around. Eos, darling little sister that she is, goes above and beyond in painting the sky with the swirls of colored light. It reflects perfectly across the water, mirrored dancing lights. No one else is present; it goes without saying that Helios is free here, too, so he settles into a pleasant mood.

“…Thanks for showing me,” Icarus says after a while.

“Hey, no problemo, Mop-Head. If there’s one thing Helios is known for, it’s bringing magic into the lives of mortals.”

He’s prepared for a neat segue into other ways Helios can bring magic to Icarus’ life, but the mortal cuts him off, sounding excited and nerdy now. “It’s solar wind, reacting to the Earth’s atmosphere, right? Specifically, the way the magnetosphere reacts, in the form of ionization which-”

Helios groans. “Eww, you fucking nerd, no science on date night!!”


	4. Thursday (Jupiter) - Toga Party

He’s annoying Icarus again, clinging to the boy while he’s trying to go out the door. Icarus is doing that thing where he’s scowling and scolding Helios while simultaneously trying not to laugh at his antics, which might be Helios’ second-favorite look on him.

All at once, Helios’ superior vision lands on the work schedule, where it’s printed and held to the refrigerator with a magnet, and his eyes narrow.

“Hey – you’re not going to class! It’s not on your schedule!”

Icarus freezes and bites his lip nervously, turning his face away.

Everything in his posture and expression tells Helios he’s feeling embarrassed rather than guilty, so Helios immediately discards any notion of being angry or offended, in favor of being very interested, nosy and mischievous.

He grins, tightens his grip around Icarus and begins poking him. “You weren’t lying to me, were you, Mop-Head? You know that’s a bad idea!”

Icarus’ face is burning red – yes! Helios’ first-favorite look on him! The mortal tries to frown severely, undermined by his own embarrassment and the way he’s starting to squirm. “I’m not – not really! It’s technically for a class, sort of!”

“’Not technically?’ You’re really going to try to talk your way out of this with technicalities? With a god?” Helios tweaks Icarus’ ribs, grin widening as Icarus yelps and swears. “Better ‘fess up, kiddo! You don’t want me to drag the truth out of you!”

“F-fine! Ugh, you’re insufferable! It’s – it is for a class, sort of, it’s – I need to go out and get something for – an event.”

“Yes? An event? Go on,” Helios instructs cheerfully.

“It’s for the World History class. We’re doing a fundraiser. That’s all.” 

Helios sighs and cracks his knuckles theatrically. Icarus gasps and grabs at his hands.

“Okay, okay! We’re doing a – a toga night. And I need to get something to wear so I’m going downtown to Costumes By Jove. Okay? Are you happy now??”

Helios goes stock still. “You’re doing a toga party.”

“I didn’t want to say anything because I knew you’d be unbearable, you’d be so annoying about it, the worst..!”

Helios chuckles darkly. “Oh, kid. Oh, you have no idea how worst it’s gonna be. Apollo is gonna shit himself at the chance to dress you up in the old style!” 

“No, come on, don’t tell him-” Icarus starts to plead, his face so red it must be a little sore.

Helios ignores him and hollers.

“YO APOOP, GET DOWN HERE!! STAT!”

“…Good afternoon, Icarus. What is it, Helios?” Apollo must have been lurking nearby, planning to drop by, the stalky creep. Helios grins at him.

“Call me ‘Sol’ now, buddy – and you, you’re Phoebus again!”

“What are you talking about? Icarus? What’s going on?” Icarus has buried his face in his hands and only shakes his head in mute reply, so it falls on Helios to tell the tale.

“Mop-Head here just invited us both to a toga party he’s having at his school!”

“I did not invite you-”

“…So we gotta come up with a good outfit for him! I still got my old short chiton, and you can wear your old towel-rags, but what do you think for him?”

“A chlamys. Like Hermes wore sometimes.” Apollo’s eyes had gone wide and Helios could swear his pupils were dilated at the thought of playing dress-up with Icarus.

“Oh, yeah, a chlamys is a good look! With nothing underneath? It’s pretty warm out now…”

“What the hell is a chlamys – this is a toga party!”

“Yes, Icarus, but I’ve noticed that none of you actually know what a toga is – at least, very few attendees of these sorts of parties wear one correctly. Togas are the decorative wrap, that encircles a tunic. Most of the time, you all just wear chitons, which are Greek. But I think we can do better for you.” Apollo has summoned his sketchbook and a pencil and is busily and nerdily scratching away at the paper as he talks.

He shows Icarus what he’s drawn. “This is a chlamys.”

“NOPE.”

“It would look very attractive on you, and it’s lightweight –-”

“EVERYONE WOULD SEE MY DICK AND MY BUTT, APOLLO.”

“Well, and so?”

“It’s a nice set you have going on there,” Helios agrees, moments before they’re both treated to one of the funniest tantrums they’ve seen from Icarus yet.


	5. Friday (Venus) - Frogs

There’s really no way Icarus could have known.

It’s not like Helios is prone to going for long walks with the kid, out in the park or the countryside, where they’re likely to come across any frogs.

And while Icarus is familiar with most of the old tales of the gods, there are lesser-known myths that he hasn’t heard or read yet. It’s just as well he hasn’t heard the one about the frogs.

Except that means that Icarus has innocently purchased a pajama set for Helios – a onesie, in bright green, with a hood on top designed to look like a frog. It’s in his size and is presented in a bright green-and-yellow wrapped box with a sun sticker on it, and Icarus is actually smiling excitedly when he gives it to Helios.

“I saw it at the store where I work and thought of you immediately! I thought it was pretty cute and I got Joey to help me wrap it up in a nice box. Anyway, I hope you like it!”

Icarus never buys anything besides the necessities. He’s constantly, tediously monitoring his bank account and working and won’t even buy himself his favorite dessert, to save money. But apparently, as a joke some time ago, Apollo told him that Helios loves frogs, and Icarus saw these one-piece frog pajamas and was moved to buy them for Helios as a gift from the heart.

He apparently never heard of the time, three thousand years ago, when Helios was considering getting married and settling down, and all the frogs of Greece had sought an audience before Zeus and protested about Helios.

“If he gets married and there’s two of them up there, all the swamps are gonna dry up! And what if the two of them spawn even more baby suns?! Honestly, isn’t one of him bad enough already?!” they had complained. Zeus had laughed for hours afterwards, and once the other gods had heard the story, it became a running joke where they’d discreetly place a frog statuette at the door of any nymph Helios was attempting to bed, calling it “the chaperone.” Occasionally at dinners or parties one of them would randomly start giggling “isn’t one of him bad enough already?!” and the place would dissolve into laughter.

So actually, Helios thinks frogs are incredibly annoying and stupid, whiny little assholes, and if Zeus hadn’t expressly forbidden it, Helios would’ve fried them all out of existence centuries ago.

But here’s Icarus, holding out the frog-hoodie pajamas and beaming expectantly, so Helios grins back and gives him a ferocious noogie and a hug, and thanks him.

And puts the damn thing on.

Later, in his rooms in Olympus, Helios glumly surveys his reflection in the mirror. Undeniably froggy. He considers whether wearing a leather jacket over it would make it better – but no, it really wouldn’t. 

He’ll just wear it as it was intended, as pajamas, Helios decides. And only when he’s actually cuddling with Icarus, in his apartment, on the couch or in his bed. They’re actually quite comfy, and the colors suit him very well. Aside from the terrible theme, they’d look pretty cute on him.

By Uranus’ Mighty Balls, though, Helios cannot let any other god see this. They would be insufferable.

As though it senses that it’s being thought of, a frog croaks somewhere in the weeds outside the window.

“Screw you, you piece of shit!” he snarls automatically, flinging a raised middle finger in the direction of the croak. “You fuckers are all lucky I make this shitty outfit look good!”


	6. Saturday (Saturn) - Ancient History

Helios defected, along with his sisters, in the war against the Titans. This was a long time before Apollo was born. 

These younger gods – “Octopus,” is what Hermes calls them, because there are eight second-generation Olympians if you count Aphrodite, and an Octopus has eight legs…whatever, Hermes is such a fucking dork. Anyway, the “Octopus Gods” or whatever they call themselves, are almost as young to Helios and his sisters, as Icarus is to the Octopus Gods.

Helios was there before humanity; and he was there when Kronos ran the show, in the Golden Age, which was when humanity was its happiest, although not its smartest. The humans quite long then, by their standards, and were peaceful and never had to work, and interacted with the Titans freely. 

The arrival of Zeus marked the end of this era. Helios remembers the young Zeus, clad in beggar’s rags, sacrificing a bull – a huge, glorious, very impressive bull, seriously where did he even find this beast? – to Helios, in an effort to win the Titan’s favor in the impending war against the rest of the existing pantheon of giants.

Helios had accepted, and advised his sisters to stay with him and decline to participate in the war, defecting and betraying their cousins. And now the three of them are the only Titans around to see the next Ages of Man:

The Silver Age, marked by sin and disrespect for the new pantheon of gods, and Zeus’ displeasure at them all and ultimately destroying them entirely.

Then, the Bronze Age, marked by tough violent people. Ares had liked them but not many others did. 

The Iron Age was supposedly the current age, though Helios thinks they may be in some post-Iron Age by now. In any case, in this age, humanity is at their worst. Humans exist in misery, toiling daily to eke out their living; lies and dishonor are the norm; no one feels shame for any wrongdoing and the gods have forsaken humanity. The gods of Olympus routinely grumble that they’ve been stuck in this wretched Iron Age for too long now.

Helios, who sees all, thinks this uncharitable. The humans don’t generally fare much worse than the gods in terms of nobility or depravity, and with far less time to learn from their mistakes. As strained as relations often are now, between gods and mortals or humanity among itself, Helios prefers it over the mindless pretty vapid things the humans were before. None of these Olympians were around for that, though. At least the modern humans are constantly trying to improve themselves… the gods aren’t much different from who they were two and a half millennia ago.

He’s thinking about this one morning, when he’s prowling in Icarus’ bedroom and watching him sleep. He surprises Icarus by singing “Good Morning!” from Singin’ in the Rain and landing on top of him in bed with a heavy bounce. 

Icarus gasps and bolts upright, wildly pushing away at the invader in his bed, blinking owlishly with his mouth hanging open.

The kid’s hair is a disaster, sticking out in every direction like Helios’ own aureole crown, and he’s wearing one of the stupid tank tops from Hermes’ prank, wherein he replaced every shirt in Icarus’ wardrobe with a brightly colored tank that says “sun’s out guns out”. Icarus gapes at Helios and looks like he’s not completely caught up to where they are or who he’s looking at.

Helios grins at him, holding up a phone to take a picture. “Like I’ve been saying for a while now, Mop-Head – or make that Shock-Head – your generation is the pinnacle of humanity. Here’s the proof-oof!”

Jeez, you pay a guy a compliment in the morning, and what do you get for your trouble but a pillow to the face!


	7. Sunday (Sol) - Kisses

Helios tackles Icarus the moment he walks in the door, home from his nerdy job at the flower shop.

Icarus drops his satchel and yelps as Helios wrestles him over to the couch, lifting him off his feet as they go, hugging him tightly.

“You always keep me waiting, Mop-Head!”

“Helios!! Leggo!! You’re squeezing too hard, I can’t even breathe!!” Icarus complains, pushing at Helios again in their usual routine. His feet kick in the air; it’s pretty cute.

Helios drops them both onto the couch, laughing into Icarus’ shirt before messing up his hair with one hand and blowing a quick raspberry into his neck, producing a lovely musical squeal while Icarus starts punching him in a fruitless attempt to dislodge the god.

Helios pouts at him while ignoring the feeble blows. “Icarus, I don’t know if I approve of all this violence in a boyfriend. I prefer a tender lover, you know?”

Icarus has given up and is laughing now. “If that’s what will get rid of you, I’m willing to try – Hey! Get your hand off my butt!”

“Ahh yes, the ass so nice I gotta pinch it twice,” Helios teases, doing so to hear the little noise Icarus makes. “But no! I accept only kisses, no fists!”

“I-is that what it takes to get you off?” Icarus pants, then blanches and groans as he realizes what he said. 

Helios doesn’t let it slide, choosing to leer and lean in closer. “As a matter of fact, yes, but in a very specific manner, and-”

He’s shut up by the feeling of Icarus’ hand covering his eyes, blocking his vision, and then the sensation of Icarus’ lips on his.

Icarus is still breathing a little heavy from the impromptu wrestling match and the laughter, and he smells like cheap soap and strawberries and sunshine. His kiss is not nearly as skilled as Apollo’s – a little too hard and at an awkward angle – but the spontaneity and affection in the kiss shuts Helios up completely and stuns him to the point where he doesn’t manage to kiss back until just as the boy is pulling away. 

He reaches up to take hold of Icarus’ wrist and pull his hand away, raising his eyebrows in disbelief as he stares at Icarus, who is blushing and smiling and looking both shy and proud at once. 

“Th-there. You big whiner. Now get offa me!” Icarus says, a little laughter still in his voice as he shoves Helios, who’s still stunned enough that he gets knocked over onto the floor.

“Hey, hey, not fair, I wasn’t ready for that! Do-over! Another try!”

Icarus snorts and throws the couch pillow at Helios – a favorite deflection for him. “Ha! Nope! When you least expect it! Maybe tomorrow if you’re lucky.”

“But tomorrow’s the Moon’s Day!”

Icarus looks like he’s about to retort something, probably rightly making fun of Helios’ weak argument, but instead he gives Helios a smirk.

“Hmm. Let me think about it,” he teases.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Aesop, Fables (from Babrius, Fabulae Aesopeae 18) (trans. Gibbs) (Greek fable C6th B.C.) :
> 
> “Boreas (the North Wind) and Helios (the Sun) disputed as to which was the most powerful, and agreed that he should be declared the victor who could first strip a wayfaring man of his clothes. Boreas (the North Wind) first tried his power and blew with all his might, but the keener his blasts, the closer the traveler wrapped his cloak around him, until at last, resigning all hope of victory, the Wind called upon Helios (the Sun) to see what he could do. Helios (the Sun) suddenly shone out with all his warmth. The traveler no sooner felt his genial rays than he took off one garment after another, and at last, fairly overcome with heat, undressed and bathed in a stream that lay in his path. Persuasion is better than force.”***


End file.
